


So Big, So Gentle

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Louis didn’t know he had a “type” before – but now he does. Apparently his type is Harry Styles. In which Harry is a ridiculous person, and creative uses are found for Louis’s thighs.Author: alittlebitmorelarry
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

  
Louis doesn’t usually put out on the first date, and tonight should have been no exception.  


When he first arrived at the restaurant and sees Harry, Louis had to double check against the description Eleanor gave him: tall, curly hair, green eyes. Yes, it was definitely him. Except she forgot to mention the fact that he is so attractive it’s unreal, Louis thinks as he approaches the table. Harry is wearing a grey Henley shirt that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, and simple black slacks, which makes Louis glad for his own casual attire. He smiles widely when Louis introduces himself. His smile is crooked and his left cheek dimples.  


“El said you’re gorgeous. She doesn’t give you enough credit,” is the first thing he says to Louis.  


Louis didn’t know he had a “type” before — but now he does. Apparently his type is Harry Styles.  


Harry is charming, smart, not to mention fit as hell. He is also apparently a gentleman, for he rises from his chair to kiss Louis’s cheek and pulls out his chair for him. Louis would normally object to being treated like a lady, but truth be told he can never resist a man with good manners. Harry is a pleasant surprise. A fucking delight, actually. The men Eleanor sets him up with tended to be dickheads who use too much product in their hair and spend more time speaking into their phones than to Louis on their dates.  


This guy has potential, and Louis doesn’t want to ruin it by coming across as too easy. He means to take it slow. He really does. Perhaps they will exchange numbers tonight, kiss on the second date, make out like teenagers in a darkened movie theater on the third … but all of Louis’s good and pure intentions go to shit when Harry spends the vast majority of the evening looking at him with that frankly appraising, unequivocally sexual and distinctly hungry gaze and, God, Louis can feel it in his bones …  


He is getting fucked tonight.  


“So what do you do?” he asks Harry, trying to distract himself from the way Harry is tracing the rim of his wineglass with his tongue. It’s a seemingly innocent gesture, but the sparkle in Harry’s eyes says otherwise.  


“I’m a massage therapist,” Harry replies.  


“Really?” Louis can’t help glancing at Harry’s hands. He has large hands and long, graceful fingers. Louis tries not to let his mind fall into the gutter. “What kind of massage?”  


“Shiatsu. It’s a Japanese technique that targets pressure points on the body to relieve stress and induce relaxation,” Harry says, eyes glinting. “You seem quite tense actually. Perhaps I can give you a demonstration.”  


Louis refrains from pointing out that Harry is currently the source of his tension. “I’m sure you’re very good with your hands,” he says instead.  


“I’ve been told that I can do wonders with my hands,” Harry purrs, and stretches out his long legs so that they brush against Louis’s under the table.  


Their orders arrive and Louis discovers that there is no tidy or dignified way to eat lobsters. He gets sauce all over his hands and face and ends up sucking his fingers into his mouth. Harry, who has been watching him struggle with his food with a combination of amusement and concern, stops with his spoonful of gazpacho halfway to his mouth and stares fixedly at his mouth for so long that Louis has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom before he explodes from the tension.  


When he comes back to the table, hands clean and heartbeat somewhat regular, he finds that the waiter has taken away their plates and that Harry has ordered a rich tiramisu to share. Between bites of dessert, they chat idly, sharing their taste in music, discovering a mutual passion for football, their conversation so laced with innuendo that it may as well have been an evening of prolonged foreplay.  


“Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?” Harry asks when dessert is cleared away.  


Louis swallows. There is no need to ask what “a drink” implies.  


“Lead the way,” he replies.  


Harry holds the door open for him when they leave the restaurant. He places a large hand on the dip of Louis’s lower back just above the curve of his arse as Louis exits before him, the touch simultaneously gentle and self-assured. Louis feels the heat of his palm through the multiple layers of his shirt and jacket, and he is thankful for the coolness of the night.  


Harry hails a taxi and gives instructions to the driver in a low voice. They drive for barely five streets before the cab pulls up in front of a brownstone building.  


“We could have walked,” Louis remarks as they walk up the steps to the house.  


“We could have,” Harry agrees, “but patience is not my virtue.”  


Louis was about to ask him what he means, when the door clicks shut behind him and Harry’s mouth is on his. In the semi-darkness, all he can sense are the halo of wild curls framing Harry’s face, the heady scent of his cologne, and the press of Harry’s soft lips against his. Louis closes his eyes and tilts his head up into the kiss, which turns from tentative to urgent in the space of milliseconds.  


“I wanted to kiss you all night,” Harry whispers against his lips. His hands come up to bracket either side of Louis’s head, cornering him against the foyer wall. Louis feels a surge of desire and meets Harry’s tongue with his, satisfied when he receives a moan in response. Harry lowers his hands to cup Louis’s arse, kneading at the firm flesh and pulling Louis against him so that Louis can feel the hot press of his cock against his stomach.  


Finally, Harry pulls back. “So how about that drink?” He asks.  


“Fuck the drink,” Louis replies, already drunk off Harry’s taste and touch. Harry laughs, low and wicked, and squeezes Louis’s arse cheeks. He guides them in the direction of what Louis presumes is his bedroom, but their legs tangle together in their eagerness and Louis almost falls on top of Harry. Harry huffs a sound of annoyance, tightens his hands on Louis’s arse and lifts him right up into his arms. Taken by surprise, Louis clutches Harry’s biceps for balance and wraps his legs instinctively around Harry’s waist.  


“What are you, a Neanderthal?” he gasps. Louis has never considered himself small before, but now that Harry is effortlessly carrying him into the bedroom, he feels positively tiny, like Harry can do anything to him and he would be helpless to resist.  


“Like I said, I’m an impatient person,” Harry says unapologetically and sets Louis down on his bed. They tear at each other’s clothes, eager to touch naked skin. Harry tugs his trousers and boxers down in one go, pulling so hard that Louis slides down the bed a little.  


“Fuck, you’re hot,” Harry growls, tracing the V of Louis’s pelvis. He stares openly and Louis feels himself harden even more under that heated gaze. Harry sees the twitch of his cock and runs his tongue over his lips. “May I?”  


So fucking polite. “God, yes, whatever you want,” Louis groans, words tumbling out of his mouth unchecked.  


Harry settles himself between his legs and lowers his mouth over Louis’s cock. His mouth is hot, and slick, and he sucks cock like Louis’s is the best thing he’s ever tasted. Louis brushes the curly fringe out of his forehead so he can watch his dick slide between those indecently pink lips. Harry meets Louis’s eyes and holds his gaze while he purses his lips around the head of Louis’s cock and Louis has to wrench his eyes away, swallowing a moan at the visual stimulation. He drops his head back down on the bed and jerks his hips up into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth. Harry moans when Louis’s cock hits the back of his throat. Louis’s stomach flips when he realizes that Harry likes it, prefers it a little rough, so he fucks harder into Harry’s mouth. Harry rests his hands on Louis’s thighs, not bothering to hold his hips down, letting Louis use his mouth and, God, Louis is going to come way too fast …  


With tremendous effort, he pushes Harry off. “Don’t wanna come yet,” he gasps, “Get your kit off.”  


Harry pulls his shirt over his head and throws it across the room. His chest and abs are well-defined and Louis runs his hands over his torso appreciatively. When Harry shimmies out of his trousers and underwear, his mouth drops open.  


“Are you for real?” he demands.  


“What?” Harry frowns, confused.  


Louis reaches up and runs his hand over Harry’s cock – Harry’s monster cock – he amends in his head, because a dick like that needs a proper descriptive. It has to be ten, perhaps eleven inches long, so thick that Louis cannot wrap his hand around its girth, and easily the biggest Louis has ever seen. Even including penises in porn, and that’s saying something.  


“You should be in porn,” Louis says, still ogling the huge appendage with a mixture of trepidation and desire. He has never particularly cared about size – it’s about what you do with it, not how big it is, he’s always said. However, he can’t deny the arousal that trickles through his blood as he strokes that beautiful cock, long and thick and throbbing in his hand. Even his hand looks smaller in comparison, like it belongs to a child, and there is so much that is wrong with that thought.  


“Porn doesn’t pay as well as you’d think,” Harry says, and fucking smirks, like he has considered it, probably even tried his hand at it and shot some amateur flick with a buddy during college. Louis feels inexplicably jealous. He reverses their positions so that Harry is on his back, Louis straddling his thighs. Harry watches, lush lips parted, as Louis bends and kisses the shiny head of his cock, runs his lips down the side, then back up to nip at his foreskin.  


“Down, boy,” Louis reprimands, when Harry bucks up, making his huge dick slide out of Louis’s grasp and smear a streak of precome across Louis’s cheek.  


Harry groans and covers his eyes with his hands. “Stop fucking teasing and suck me then.”  


“You really should learn some patience,” Louis says mildly, and returns to suckling at the crown of Harry’s cock. Harry breathes shallowly, but keeps himself still. Satisfied with his submission, Louis opens his mouth wider, so wide that his jaw cracks a little, and takes Harry as deep as he can. Despite the fact that Louis has been able to deepthroat since he was nineteen, he can barely take Harry halfway into his mouth before pulling off, gasping for air.  


“God, I wish you could see yourself,” Harry says, breath hitching. Louis looks up and sees that he has bitten his bottom lip red and plump, and that his fingers are clenched into the sheets, white-knuckled. “Wish you could see yourself trying to take my big cock, so beautiful …”  


Louis moans, suddenly consumed with a bone-deep hunger. He renews his efforts, training his jaw to open up wider and his throat to relax, but it’s almost physically impossible. Louis is reminded of something he once saw on the Internet, some dirty Japanese animation where a guy with a dick the size of his thighs fucked a petite girl whose breasts were larger than her head. Louis thought that only in a cartoon would such exaggerated physiology exist, yet here is Harry Styles with his impossibly large cock leaking copious amounts of precome down Louis’s throat, and it’s all very much real.  


A bubble of hysterical laughter rises in Louis’s throat, but since his mouth is full of cock, he ends up choking. A look of concern crosses Harry’s face, followed by an expression of smug amusement.  


“Stop being so cocky,” Louis narrows his eyes, then groans at his inadvertent pun when Harry bursts out laughing.  


“I think I have a right to be,” Harry smirks, and thrusts his hips up so that his cock slides through Louis’s fist. Louis gulps. He is even bigger now that he is fully erect, and Louis feels a bit lightheaded simply holding the pulsing length of it in his hand. He closes his eyes for a second.  


“I must be asleep and dreaming right now, because the gay fairy has magicked me into a bed with a beautiful, naked man who has a ten inch dick and things like this just don’t happen in real life,” he intones. Harry splutters in surprised laughter, then pulls Louis on top of him and kisses him hard.  


“You’re so strange,” Harry shakes his head, still smiling. “Good strange,” he adds. They rut together, so much better and more intimate with naked skin against naked skin. Harry adjusts his cock so that it slides against the crack of Louis’s arse when they move. Louis moans when it brushes against his hole, lighting up the nerves there. He looks down at Harry’s face, flushed and open and expectant.  


“That monster is not coming anywhere near my arse,” he warns. Even as he says this, his hole clenches emptily, as though reminding him that it’s been too long since he’s been properly fucked. All the more reason not to split himself on a dick the size of his arm, Louis argues internally.  


Harry pouts, but quickly brightens again. “That’s okay, I have another idea.”  


He lifts Louis out of his lap (Louis would complain about the constant manhandling, if it didn’t turn him on so much), and arranges him so that he kneels upright, braced against the top of the bed.  


“Hold onto the headboard,” Harry instructs. Louis shivers at the huskiness of his voice and obeys. He hears the sound of a bottle being opened and turns around to see Harry drizzling lube onto his palms.  


“But I said –” he begins.  


“I know,” Harry interrupts. “I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me.”  


And strangely enough, Louis does. Harry kneels behind him and straddles the outside of his thighs. Louis releases a sound of surprise when Harry reaches around his waist and starts massaging oil onto his inner thighs with the steady, skillful hands of a masseuse. He sighs and leans back onto Harry’s firm chest, luxuriating in the impromptu massage. Harry works his hands indiscriminatorily across his pelvis, cock, balls and thighs until Louis’s nether regions are slick with lube.  


Louis whines in protest when Harry removes his hands. “Keep your legs together, love,” Harry says, and Louis doesn’t quite understand what he means until he feels the head of Harry’s cock nudge at the space between his thighs.  


“Oh,” he breathes, and tightens his thigh muscles so that they squeeze around that thick cock, creating a snug passageway for Harry to fuck.  


“Good boy,” Harry nips his earlobe and begins to thrust slowly between Louis’s legs, hands on Louis’s waist to keep him steady. The lube smoothes the way and it’s gentle, sensual, and unlike anything Louis has felt before. He contracts and relaxes his inner thigh muscles, gratified when Harry groans lowly into his ear.  


Harry, it turns out, is a dirty talker.  


“Do you like it when I fuck your thighs? Does it feel good?” he asks, sucking a mark into Louis’s throat.  


“Uh huh,” Louis agrees hoarsely. He reaches down to where Harry is rutting between his legs and lets the thick cock slide against his palm on each inward stroke.  


“Love your arse, your thighs … such strong, sexy thighs, bet you can ride my dick all night long and not get tired, I can’t wait to see you fuck yourself on my big cock, taking it like a champ …” Harry continues, voice rough. He pulls Louis’s hair back for better access and mouthes at the column of Louis’s neck. Louis shudders and clenches his hole reflexively, already imagining what it’ll feel like to have that giant cock filling him up and splitting him open.  


Harry notices his reaction and rubs his thumb around the outside of Louis’s furled entrance. Louis feels him smirk against the nape of his neck. “You want it, don’t you,” he coos, “you want my big cock inside you. Having your thighs fucked is not enough; you want to know what it’s like to be completely filled up, so full of my cock that you can’t breathe.”  


“Fuck yeah,” Louis hisses, and tightens his thighs around that thick cock. “Just fuck me harder, damn it.”  


Harry grips him by the torso with large hands that span almost the entire circumference of his narrow waist. He moves Louis’s hips in counterpoint to his thrusts, pushing him forward when he draws back so that the head of Louis’s cock paints a wet streak onto the headboard, pulling him back when he thrusts forward so that their groins meet with a meaty slap. Louis looks down and watches the purple head of Harry’s dick disappear and reappear in the triangle of space between his inner thighs and bollocks. The way it rubs relentlessly against the underside of his balls feels excruciatingly good. Harry moans into his ear as pumps away at Louis’s thighs, his voice low and rumbling and the sexiest thing Louis has ever heard.  


“First I’ll make you come with just my fingers, open you up so you’re nice and ready for me. Then I’ll flip you over on your stomach with your gorgeous arse in the air, and fuck you so hard with my huge dick you won’t be able to sit for a week without feeling the shape of me inside,” Harry growls. Louis releases a choked moan. At this point, Harry is going to talk him into an orgasm. His balls feel heavy and full, cock aching and so hard it’s flush against his taut stomach. He reaches down for his neglected cock but Harry beats him to it, batting his hand away and wrapping his long, strong fingers around it instead. Fuck, his hand is so big he can probably jerk both their dicks at the same time.  


“Gonna come for me, babe?” Harry strokes him rapidly, fingers deft and sure, “I want to see your beautiful face when you come, hear you cry out my name, so fucking gorgeous, Louis …”  


“You really are good with your hands,” Louis gasps. Harry works his fist around the sensitive head of Louis’s cock, hands tireless and wonderful and made to give handjobs, among other things and Louis feels his orgasm being physically pulled from his body.  


“God, Harry, I’m coming —” he cries, voice embarrassingly high-pitched, while Harry continues to pump his cock, milking every last drop.  


Harry fucks him through his orgasm without skipping a beat, pushing Louis’s thighs together when they fall lax. The inside of his thighs starts to feel tender and raw, even with the lube, and the oversensitivity renders Louis’s vision grey and fuzzy. Harry thrusts a few more times before he comes with a groan, gripping Louis’s waist so tight that there will be red marks where his fingers are.  


Louis falls back into Harry’s embrace. He is knackered already, and Harry holds his up, warm, firm and protective behind him. It feels nice, even if they’re both quite sweaty. Harry rubs his fingers idly over his hips and thighs, rubbing dots of come into his sore skin.  


“That was amazing,” Louis slurs. He makes a protesting sound when Harry pulls away.  


“Your poor thighs,” Harry murmurs. He pulls Louis down onto the bed and spreads his legs to inspect the chafed and reddened skin there, before sucking a love bite into the junction between thigh and arse. It hurts a little and Louis whimpers, but he’s too boneless and content to push Harry away. He simply lets Harry hold his legs open and abuse the inside of his thighs, all regard for modesty forgotten.  


Harry delivers a gentle smack to Louis’s left buttock. “You’re not off the hook yet, darling. I’m conquering your arse next time.”  


“My arse is not America,” Louis mumbles. It doesn’t make much sense, but Harry laughs anyway.  


“Like I said, good strange,” he says fondly. Louis decides to take it as a compliment.  


He doesn’t fail to notice the implication of a next time and files the information away, hiding his smile into the bed sheets. “It’s going to take a lot of patience to woo my arse,” he says.  


“Don’t worry. For you, I’m willing to get a PhD in patience,” Harry replies. Louis rolls his eyes at the cheesiness and pulls Harry back onto the bed to spoon him.  


Harry really is quite ridiculous, with his large hands and pouty lips and monster cock, and Louis thinks he’s a little in love.


	2. Hold You Up and Drive You All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants Louis to beg for it. Sequel to untitled thigh-fucking smut, but can be read as a stand alone fic
> 
> A/N: Immense thanks to tommosmut for reading this over with a hawk’s eye, I’m greatly indebted to you babe.
> 
> So it only took me three months to write the sequel, apologies to everyone who messaged me about it. I made it extra smutty to make up for it!
> 
> Title from the song Drive by Melissa Ferrick.

  
Louis turns this way and that, frowning at his reflection. The sales lady at the store told him that those particular jeans make his bum “look like sin,” but he couldn’t tell if she was sincere or simply good at her job.

“Stop being neurotic,” he tells himself. He looks fuckable. He’d fuck himself in the blink of an eye.

Before he has time to ponder the possibly incestuous nature of that thought, there is a knock on the door that has him tripping over his feet to get to the foyer.

“Graceful, Tomlinson,” he says. Then, with a frown, “Stop talking to yourself.”

He only does that when he’s nervous. Which there is no reason to be. They have been dating for a month now and Harry has yet to reveal himself to be a psychopath and the sex has yet to be anything less than fantastic. Louis can’t help his lips curving into a dreamy smile as he fixes his hair for the dozenth time in the hallway mirror. It’s a side effect of being in a new relationship. Zayn says it makes him intolerable. Louis thinks Zayn is jealous.

Harry straightens up from where he is slouched against the doorframe when Louis opens the door. He is dressed impeccably in a black leather jacket and tight jeans that cling to his long legs. He gives Louis an appreciative once over and bites the side of his finger. It’s a terrible habit. Louis finds it unbearably sexy.

“Hi!” Louis says breathlessly. He gets a heady whiff of Harry’s cologne when the latter leans in to kiss him on the cheek. _Chanel_.

“Are we eating in or out?” Harry flashes his dimples, like there weren’t at least three layers of innuendo buried in that one innocent question.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m so hungry I could eat anything you give me,” Louis drawls. He enjoys this game, this little exchange where they both try to hide how much they want each other. He already knows how the evening will go: they will go to some overpriced restaurant with a menu Louis can’t pronounce, banter their way through the first course, flirt their way through the second, play footsie through the third, then flee the restaurant before dessert arrives to go back to Harry’s place to fuck.

Sure enough, barely an hour later, they stumble back to Harry’s, wine-tipsy and aroused. They barely make it to the couch before Louis’s got Harry gloriously naked and is bent in his lap, sucking blissfully on his cock. He loves to suck Harry before he’s gotten fully erect, loves to feel him harden and thicken in his mouth until Louis can’t fit him in his mouth anymore without cracking his jaw and has to draw off and lick at him instead.

Louis doesn’t think he will ever get over how _big_ Harry is.

He pulls off to regain his breath, eyes already watering at the ache in his jaw. Harry strokes his thumb across his bottom lip and stares intently at his swollen lips.

“I love when you suck me,” he sighs, “so cute when you try to take all of me.” Louis wrinkles his nose at _cute_ and snogs Harry to shut him up. The kiss grows heated as they frot against each other, Harry’s hands kneading at his buttocks. His finger slips between Louis’s arsecheeks, strokes him _right there_ and Louis moans, cock jerking as a sudden flare of desire bursts in his chest.

“Um, you could fuck me,” Louis swallows when Harry doesn’t move his hand where it’s teasing the rim of his anus, “If you want.”

From the way Harry’s hands tighten on his bum, it’s quite obvious he wants to. But he simply says, “You sure you can take me?”

“Please,” Louis scoffs, “you’re not that big.” Which is a complete and utter lie.

Harry raises his eyebrows. Louis realizes he is quite serious.

“Whatever happened to ‘I’m not letting that monster cock anywhere near my arse’?” Harry mimics.

"What — oh, that —" Louis groans when he remembers his own words parroted back to him from the first time they had sex. "Well, I wasn’t prepared. Mentally,” he clarifies. "You need time for these things."

Now that he’s got the idea in his head, it’s impossible to chase it out of head, especially when Harry’s right there looking five sorts of delicious, cock hard and nestled against the curve of Louis’s bum like it belongs there.

Harry sucks on his neck and hums. “How bad?”

“Huh?” Louis has some trouble following the thread of the conversation because Harry’s mouth is distracting at the best of times.

“How badly do you want my cock?” Harry clarifies.

"Really, really badly," Louis rolls his eyes, but humors him. "Really," he adds for emphasis.

“Then beg me for it.”

Louis pulls away. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Harry says, eyes glittering. He leans in and bites Louis’s earlobe. “I want to hear you beg me to fuck you.”

“You know, I can have men lining up around the block for a piece of me,” Louis huffs and pokes him in the chest.

“I have no doubt,” Harry grins, “but they’re not me.”

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” Louis growls, torn between annoyance and arousal. When Harry doesn’t appear any closer to shoving Louis face-first into the couch and staking claim to Louis’s arse, Louis switches tactics and grinds down provocatively in his lap.

“I bet you’ll be the one giving in first, the one begging to fuck my arse,” he says.

"That so?" Harry’s eyes light up with challenge. "You should know that I’ve never lost a bet.”

“Neither have I,” Louis retorts, voice wavering a bit. Damn, this was not how he had imagined the night would go.

“I guess we’re at an impasse,” Harry says, flicking his thumbs maddeningly against the ridge of Louis’s hipbones. He looks more amused than put out, smiling cheekily like he’s not taking Louis seriously at all. Louis’s blood boils.

“Plenty of other things we can do,” he grunts. He rolls onto the couch, lengthwise, and pushes Harry’s shaggy head towards his crotch. Harry kisses the head of his cock until his cupid’s bow lips are shiny with precome, and when Louis fucks up into his mouth, he groans and thrusts into his own hand. Louis watches him masturbate and tries not to feel jealous.

He consoles himself with the thought that Harry will give in first. He is sure of it.

“ _How_ big did you say he is?”

He and Eleanor are loitering in the cafeteria during lunch break. Louis doesn’t know how the topic of conversation turned to how well-endowed his boyfriend is, but ever since Eleanor found out that he and Harry hit it off, she has been unbearably smug, and inappropriately nosy about his sex life.

“Ten inches,” he replies.

“Golly,” El’s eyes widen comically, a forkful of salad pausing an inch in front of her open mouth.

“And that’s when he’s soft,” Louis adds.

Her eyebrows rise into her hairline. “Doesn’t it hurt when he — when you guys, you know, do it?”

Louis frowns. “First of all, why do you assume he’s the one who fucks me?”

“Please,” El snorts, “you’re the biggest bottom boy ever —” she ignores Louis’s spluttering of protest, “— and besides, whenever you two are in the same room, you get this look on your face like you just want to get down on your knees and stick your arse in the air for him.”

Louis feels his cheeks burn. He stares intently at his porcini mushroom sandwich.

“Fine, I’m a complete and utter slut for him,” he admits. “Can you blame me?”

El giggles. “Point taken. But did it hurt, the first time you did it?”

Louis takes a slow sip of tea, then finally mumbles, “We haven’t yet.”

“You haven’t had sex yet?” She screeches, then lowers her voice when their coworkers glance over with thinly-veiled curiosity. “You’ve been dating an attractive, intelligent man with a ten-inch dick for two months and haven’t done the naughty yet? What is wrong with you?!”

“We’ve had sex, of course!” Louis hissed, flapping his hand to try to keep her voice down, “just not — that.”

“Why not?” she asks, mystified.

“You know, not every gay couple has anal sex,” Louis sniffs. “Some people don’t like it.”

“But you do,” El smirks, and Louis decides that he needs to stop sharing everything with her.

Louis realizes he can’t weasel out of this discussion. He sighs and scrubs his face. “He won’t fuck me until I beg him,” he says in a rush.

She shrieks so loud with laughter that he has to leap across the table and clamp his hand over her big mouth.

“It’s not funny!” he hisses. “He’s being a dickhead!”

“No, Louis, you’re just pissed off because you’re not getting what you want.” She wipes away tears of mirth. “Honest, I don’t see what the problem is. If you want his dick that badly, just beg him already.”

“It’s a matter of pride. And honor,” he says stiffly.

El snorts like she doubts he possesses either.

“Besides, I bet him that he’ll crack before I do,” he adds.

El shoots him a vastly unimpressed look. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, darling, but you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

Louis doesn’t like to admit defeat.

He’s headstrong and competitive, and has been known to streak through Covent Garden clad only in his boxers in the dead of winter because Liam dared him to. He knows Harry wants him. He just needs to make Harry see what he’s missing.

If it means playing dirty then so be it.

They don’t see each other for another week because of their work schedules, and it’s agonizing. Naughty text messages can only do so much to ease the ache, and frankly they fan the flames of Louis’s desire for Harry more than assuage it. He realizes that he has set himself up for an ambitious task. Harry is easily the biggest he’s ever had — will have, he corrects mentally — and the thought of taking that huge cock both excites and terrifies him a little. So two days after unwittingly making that wager with Harry, Louis finds himself skulking around the dildos section at the local sex toy store. He buys the biggest one he can find: a huge, black phallus that resembles an alien tentacle more than a penis, and tries not to blush when the cashier smirks at the checkout.

He takes a picture of the toy and sends it to Harry with the caption: _just bought this, what do u think?_

Harry’s reply comes instantly. _send me a pic when u use it love xx_

Louis uses it that evening, lying eagle-spread in bed and preparing himself carefully with lubed fingers before pushing the dildo inside. It’s huge and unwieldy, and Louis feels like a fool when he awkwardly reaches between his legs to snap a picture with his phone. His hole is red and stretched around the thick dildo that’s buried so deep inside that only the base peeks out. The camera resolution is good enough to pick up the glisten of lube on the rim of his anus and the whole thing is frankly obscene.

Louis bites his lip and hits send.

He has worked up a rhythm, holding the base of the dildo steady while rocking his hips down on it, when Harry’s reply comes through.

_was having dinner w my mum u brat. had to run into the loo to wank cuz u got me so hard._

Louis opens the attached picture and moans. It’s a close up of Harry’s big hand wrapped around his even bigger cock. He’s pulled down the foreskin to show the precome gathering at the head. Louis swallows convulsively and fucks himself frantically with the dildo. It’s not quite the same; he knows Harry is bigger. And thicker and hotter and comes with the warm, heavy weight of the man pinning him down helpless to the bed. Louis concentrates hard on how Harry would feel, hot and throbbing inside him instead of this lifeless dildo, and comes hard all over his stomach.

_fuck that was good. i kept thinking about u. miss u already._

The message is a bit more uncomfortably revealing than he likes, but the endorphins flooding his system have rendered him giddy and reckless.

_u know wat u have to do darling ;) miss u too xxx_

Louis snorts _. u wish. i’m not that easy,_ he types back with sticky fingers _._

_i love that u think that._

The week drags on, agonizingly long. By the time the weekend draws near, Louis is almost ready to throw in the towel, were it not for Eleanor’s inevitable and intolerable smugness. The dildo alleviates the ache somewhat, and Louis rather enjoyed the way Harry’s voice got all choked and deep that one time Louis fucked himself with it while putting Harry on speaker phone.

"You’re a lot more inventive than I gave you credit for," Harry’s voice crackles into the post-orgasmic silence as Louis lies in a cooling puddle of his own come.

"Maybe you can reward my inventiveness by coming over and giving me a proper seeing-to," Louis slurs.

Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t, and Louis is forced to spend his waking hours plotting increasingly wild seduction strategies to get Harry to fuck him. So far, all they’ve accomplished is to ratchet up his sexual frustration.

That weekend, they make plans to check out the trendy new bar. Louis thinks it’s high time he stepped on the accelerator on his scheme to Make Harry Beg For His Arse. Harry is nothing if not punctual, so at fifteen minutes to eight, Louis steps out of the shower, clambers onto his freshly laundered bed, and waits for Harry.

It’s a risky move. For all he knows, Mrs. Pickford from the second floor might decide to drop by to leave him a basketful of confectionaries (she is a serial dieter who is unfortunately also a baking addict). But thankfully, it’s Harry’s strident voice that calls out, “Hello? Lou?” from the front door, which Louis has thoughtfully left ajar.

"In here!"

The sounds of Harry making his way to Louis’s bedroom at the end of the hallway, and the sudden pause as he stops in the doorway — “Christ,” he swears softly.

Louis glances over his shoulder. He’s on his hands and knees, naked and still damp from the shower, presenting Harry with his best view as he fucks himself leisurely with two fingers. “Sorry, I got started without you.” Harry swallows convulsively and stares unabashedly and Louis hides a smile behind his shoulder blade. “Was thinking about you all day, see.”

Harry drops his bag onto the floor with a clatter and stalks over to the bed. He strokes Louis’s lower back, making Louis arch into his touch.

"Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes," he says, voice rough. "I’ve been thinking about you too, but fantasy-Louis never lives up to reality-Louis."

He touches the rim of Louis’s quivering hole and Louis’s arms give out a little. He pulls his sticky fingers out of his hole and holds himself there, open and vulnerable and feeling more than a little bit slutty.

"Help me out?" he says coyly.

“God, you’re such a —” Louis makes a squawk of surprise when Harry flips him onto his back, and thrusts three of his own fingers inside Louis’s slick hole, “— such a needy little boy, aren’t you?”

"Fuck!" Louis keens and trembles, spasming around Harry’s decidedly longer fingers. Harry doesn’t allow him time to adjust before he’s twisting his fingers in deeper until he finds Louis’s prostate. Louis goes a bit wild and rocks down to get his hand in as deep as possible and it’s like some dirty tug of war except they’re pushing against each other instead of pulling. There is a wild look in Harry’s eyes and Louis feels powerful even though he’s the one pinned to the bed getting finger within an inch of his life.

“F-fuck, yeah, fuck me harder,” he grinds the heel of his palm against the front of Harry’s tented trousers, feeling the hot length jerk in his hand. They touch each other, graceless and uncoordinated, and Louis almost forgets his master plan as he rides Harry’s fingers.

Harry pins his hips down roughly, abandoning all gentleness as he squeezes in a fourth finger. “Fuck, you’re so tight, so tight and hot, just begging to be fucked, God, Lou …”

Louis clenches down rhythmically on his fingers, moaning at the stretch. “C’mon, Harry, fuck me, you know you want to.”

Harry breathes hard for a moment, then pulls his fingers away. He tears at his flies and Louis’s heart jumps with anticipation.

“Yes, yes,” he hisses when Harry gets out his cock, thick and engorged with blood and Louis wants all of him.

“Say it,” Harry demands, gripping the base of his cock so tightly it must hurt. “Beg me, Lou.”

The words are almost out of Louis’s mouth, perched on the edge of his tongue, before he freezes. He presses his lips together and shakes his head mutely. Harry expels a deep breath and crawls up Louis’s torso and starts fisting his cock inches away from Louis’s face. Louis watches, dry-mouthed and dumbfounded, as Harry works that beautiful length, staring him down with stormy green eyes and until he comes all over Louis’s neck and chest.

Louis feels hot semen run down over his ribs and he needs to come so badly he wants to scream. Harry hums happily as he surveys Louis’s debauched state and bends down to lick a drop of come off of the tip of Louis’s nose.

"Oh darling," he says sweetly, "you’re not the only one who can play dirty."

Louis can’t stop thinking about getting fucked. For the fifth time in one day, he finds himself sitting at his desk and wondering how it would feel to be split open by Harry’s giant, ten-inch dick. His fingers and dildo are sadly no longer satisfying him. It would be a piece of cake to indulge himself with a one night stand, but he only wants Harry. Stupid, stubborn Harry who refuses to fuck him. Beautiful, ridiculously well-endowed Harry who gets off on tormenting him.

Louis glares at his overflowing inbox for a solid ten minutes, alternating between venting inwardly at Harry’s recalcitrance and wandering whether he has time for a wank, before a knock at his office door shakes him out of his reverie.

“What?” he barks at Eleanor, who has poked her head into his office and doesn’t look at all put off by his curtness.

“Sounds like someone needs to get laid,” she sings. “Shaw called a meeting ten minutes ago. From the state of your inbox I reckon you didn’t get the memo.”

“Christ, what does he want this time?” he grumbles and rearranges himself under the desk before getting up from his chair. They walk in tandem down the hall. He is about to compliment her new pencil skirt before he remembers that she doesn’t deserve to be complimented. Or anything good. Not while he’s in an incurable state of sexual denial.

“Shaw said something about needing your opinion on market penetration in South America,” she shrugs, “since you, um, know all about penetrating.”

Louis squints at her.

“I mean, you know all the, ahem, ins and outs of the business,” she continues, lips curling. “We really need a thrust in the right direction.”

“Go shove a broom up your twat,” Louis snaps, and storms off towards the conference room.

The situation is becoming untenable.

By the third week, Louis is about to have an aneurysm.

As Louis prepares for their date on Saturday night, he seriously contemplates enacting Plan C of his Make Harry Beg For His Arse scheme, which consists of tying Harry forcibly to his bedposts and riding his brains out. But that feels like cheating and Louis likes to win fair and square.

Fortunately, Harry decides to put Louis out of his misery before such drastic actions are undertaken.

“I have a gift for you,” is the first thing he says when he arrives to pick Louis up. They have tickets to see a West End play, and the prospect of soon being among respectable theater-going folk is the only thing preventing Louis from jumping him immediately.

“What is it?” Louis asks curiously. He cranes over Harry’s shoulder to see what he’s got in the black plastic bag held behind his back, but Harry holds it out of his reach.

“Close your eyes,” Harry says enigmatically.

Louis rolls his eyes, then closes them and holds out both hands palms-up like a child demanding candy. Instead of receiving the gift he was promised, however, Harry takes his proffered hands and leads him blindly to the living room couch.

"Eep!" he squeaks when Harry pulls off his trousers and boxers in one go. "What the hell — ahhh …” Louis tips his head back, eyes still closed, when he feels Harry’s hot mouth around his cock. “Not that I don’t like surprise blowjobs —” Harry does something especially fantastic with his tongue and his hips fly off the couch, “scratch that, I love surprise blowjobs, but we have a show to catch.”

“D’you want your present or not?” Harry says, breath hot against Louis’s balls.

“I guess we can be fashionably late,” Louis concedes.

“Then spread your legs like a good boy,” Harry says.

Louis obeys without hesitation because he is putty in the hands of a handsome man promising him oral pleasure. He hears the rustling of plastic and wriggles impatiently.

“You’re not a psychopath, are you?” he wonders out loud. “I hope you’re not planning to tie me up and slowly torture me to death by sexual frustration.”

“Would you like that?” A dark laugh and the pop of a bottle cap. “Let me tie you up —” A light kiss to his thigh, “— and do anything to you?”

Louis imagines being bound hand and foot to the bed, Harry pushing his huge cock into his arse and him with nowhere to go except take it. He spreads his legs wider without thinking.

“I knew you were too good to be true, you sadist,” he says evasively. He stiffens when something smooth and cold nudges against his anus.

“No peeking,” Harry murmurs, tempering his warning with a warm hand on Louis’s stomach. Louis holds his breath as the — the _thing_ breaches him further. It widens, hard and unyielding, slowly stretching him open.

“Relax, babe.”

Louis whines low in this throat as it gets bigger and wider and, verging on the point of discomfort, _pops_ inside so that his anus clamps down on the narrow end. Louis can’t help it anymore; his eyes snap open and he stares agape at what appears to be the base of a butt plug peeking out from between his arse cheeks.

“Gorgeous,” Harry says approvingly, and starts to do up Louis’s trousers.

"Not fair," Louis says plaintively as Harry pulls him up from the couch. The plug inside him shifts, foreign and exciting and promising. He can’t believe he’s going to be among respectable theater-going folk with a butt plug stretching out his tight arse.

“Fairness is overrated,” Harry grins. He offers his arm to a wobbly-kneed Louis. “C’mon, we’ve got a show to catch.”

Louis fights to keep his composure all the way to the theater, or as much as he can manage given that he feels like he’s running a fever and he’s probably walking like a nine month old toddler. He doesn’t want to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing how much the butt plug is affecting him. He’s no stranger to butt plugs, but he’s never worn one for an extended period of time, and in public. At the theater, no less! There is an illicit thrill in the act which, combined with the pleasurable way the toy shifts inside him with each step, leaves him breathless and aching and even less capable of rational thought than usual.

He is also ninety-nine percent sure at this point that Harry is the spawn of the devil. Despite Harry’s nonchalant exterior, there is a faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth that widens as he bears witness to the rapid degradation of Louis’s sanity. It doesn’t help that he keeps _touching_ Louis — a hand on the small of his back and a graze to the swell of his bum that leave Louis gasping quietly.

"Alright there?" he says when he squeezes Louis’s hip at the ticket counter and makes Louis spill change all over himself.

"Just spiffy," Louis sniffs, but clings gratefully to Harry’s arm as they make their way into the auditorium.

By the time the curtains rise, Louis is already half-hard from a combination of anticipation and the constant stimulation of the plug. The actors’ voices flow over him in a buzz of noise; all he can concentrate on is the toy plugging him up and stretching him out for — God, he can only guess what new torture Harry has in store for him later. He feels dry-mouthed and feverish. He shifts in his seat, but only manages to make the plug slip past his prostate. A whimper escapes his lips.

“Stop moving, you’ll only make it worse,” Harry whispers.

“And whose fault is that?” Louis bites out.

Harry licks his lips, eyes bright. “The more you squirm like that, the more I want to throw you on the floor and fuck you. Right here. In front of all these people. We’d give ‘em a good show, wouldn’t we?”

Louis’s fingers dig convulsively into Harry’s thigh. “D-Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it!”

Harry shakes his head, “But I do.”

And Louis doesn’t quite know what to make of that. Is Harry going to forfeit their bet? Why would he do that when he’s the one in control and Louis the one wrecked and on the verge of giving in? Then Harry leans near and whispers out of the corner of his mouth,

"I forgot to tell you something. It vibrates."

Before the words clicks in Louis’s befuddled mind, the butt plug buzzes, right up against his prostate. He moans out loud this time, the sound thankfully drowned out by a timely burst of laughter from the audience. Louis doesn’t bother to check what’s causing the hilarity; he lost the plot thread five minutes into the play and the actors could be prancing around buck naked onstage for all he cares.

"What the bloody fuck!" He swears under his breath when the toy vibrates again, making him clutch the armrests so tight the veins in his forearms stand out. "Are you controlling this thing?"

"The beauty of remote control," Harry says cheerfully. His hand twitches in the pocket of his coat and Louis’s head _thunks_ back against his seat, mouth opening on a wordless groan. The lady next to him shoots him a half-concerned, half-nervous look, probably thinking that he’s some poor epileptic sufferer.

"You are a psychopath, after all," Louis gasps. "Twisted, demented —"

"Such a sweet talker you are," Harry drawls, and keeps his finger on the magic button for longer than necessary. Louis hates him and loves him and, God, he’s never wanted anyone more in his life.

He barely makes it through the next hour, entire body quivering with tension, not knowing when the next burst of stimulation will come, flinching whenever Harry so much as crosses his legs or moves his little finger. Even when Harry takes pity on him and gives him a reprieve from the damned vibration, it’s sweet torture to stay still in his seat when he is so full and stretched, with no relief in sight. It’s not enough, not what he wants; what he wants is sitting next to him, serenely enjoying the play. 

Louis blinks dumbly when the auditorium lights come back on. “Is it over?” he asks hopefully.

"Intermission," Harry says, pulling him to his wobbly feet. "C’mon, you look like you could use a breath of fresh air."

"What I could use right now is a good hard fuck," Louis whispers darkly as they file out.

He heads straight for the men’s room. To his surprise, Harry follows him right into the stall and slams the door shut behind them. He pushes Louis up against the wall, and kisses him almost savagely.

"Do you have any idea how fuckable you look?" Harry bites his bottom lip cruelly, as though Louis’s to blame for the whole situation, “how hard it was for me to keep from touching you?” He doesn’t hold back now, caressing Louis’s arse and feeling the hard base of the butt plug between his cheeks, nudging and pushing it further in. Louis collapses forward, held up between the cold ceramic wall and Harry’s warm, firm body. He sees now what the dim lighting of the theater hid earlier: the dilation of Harry’s pupils, the impressive swell of his cock in his slacks, the race of his pulse under Louis’s lips … Suddenly Louis wonders if the whole thing isn’t just as much torture for Harry as it is for him.

"Take me home," he implores, humping Harry’s thigh like he’s in heat.

Harry pretends to think about it. “And miss the second half of the play?”

"I barely remember what happened in the first half," Louis grumbles, pulling Harry into another kiss to assuage his need. "God, I need you inside me, fucking me until I can’t remember my own name. _Please_.”

“Please what, Lou?” Harry asks tenderly.

“Please take me home and fuck me, Harry,” Louis mutters. He squishes his face into Harry’s collar and inhales the heady scent of aftershave and cologne. “I beg you.”

When Louis sees the naked desire flash across Harry’s eyes, he doesn’t regret giving in one bit. Harry expels a low groan and rocks his hips against Louis’s. They snog messily for long moments before Harry pulls away forcibly.

"Let’s go."

Harry breaks at least five speed limits on the way back to his flat. Louis can barely make it up the steps in his current state, so Harry hauls him across his broad shoulders and carries him, laughing and kicking, into his bedroom like a conqueror with the spoils of victory.

"Oh my God, put me down, I’m not a bloody _girl_!” Louis protests.

"Nope, definitely not a girl," Harry smirks and slaps him soundly on the bum, "but I’m going to have my way with you and there’s nothing you can do about it."

Louis’s retort gets knocked out of his mouth when he’s tossed onto Harry’s bed. Harry climbs on top of him and cages him there, limbs long and thrumming with sexual energy.

“Let’s get your clothes off,” he says, already working at the buttons of Louis’s shirt and kissing every inch of smooth skin that is revealed. He deliberately ignores the way Louis rocks his pelvis up against his and instead takes his time decorating Louis’s torso with love bites.

“Enough with the foreplay, can we get to the main event already?” Louis demands.

“But you’re so pretty and gorgeous and edible I just want to lick you all over,” Harry murmurs, then returns to sucking at Louis’s left nipple until it’s sore and red and swollen. Louis flushes; he’s never been so blatantly complimented during sex before — his partners are usually too focused on the task at hand. But then Harry has always been the exception to the rules.

“Wanna touch you,” Louis says, and Harry allows him to tug off his shirt and run his hands through his shaggy hair before he wrests back control and pins Louis’s wrists above his head. With his other hand, he pulls the band of Louis’s underwear down over the jut of his erection, his hands cool as a balm on Louis’s feverish skin.

"Let me see you," Harry says, and Louis spreads his legs shyly. He is given no warning before the toy buzzes again. Louis jerks up with a startled cry, almost too sensitive to bear it.

"Harry —!" he wheezes.

"Sorry, couldn’t help myself," harry holds up an innocuous, palm-sized device and grins cheekily before easing the plug out of Louis. Louis forces himself to relax and it pops out with a loud sucking sound, leaving him feeling both relieved and painfully empty. Harry tosses the toys aside and stares openly until Louis wriggles in embarrassment.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" he demands.

Harry traces the rim of Louis’s hole with his thumb and allows it to slip inside. “You’re still so tight, I’m not sure you’re ready.” With that, he hitches Louis’s hips up and without so much as a by your leave, sticks his tongue right inside him.

Louis wails into the air and screws his eyes shut. The sight of that head of messy curls buried between his legs, eating him out sloppy and enthusiastic, is almost too much. Harry pushes his thumbs in and holds him open for his tongue. It’s wet, and filthy, and so good that Louis can’t help pushing back on Harry’s mouth and clenching around the slow, torturous licks of his tongue.

"Yes, oh god yeah fuck me, oh Harry, please, please, please, Harry I need you …"

He feels his ball tighten, seismic waves of pleasure building in his lower belly and dammit, he’s not going to come without getting fucked. With that thought, Louis wrestles Harry onto his back, tears off his trousers, and sits in his lap until his big dick is satisfyingly nestled in the cleft of his arse.

"Condom?" he rasps.

Harry gapes, then gropes blindly in his bedside drawer. Out flies loose change, reading glasses and a copy of Proust, of all things. Finally, he emerges with a rather large handful of foil packets.

"I knew it!" Louis accuses, ogling the sizeable pile, "you _do_ work in porn!”

"I volunteer with the gay youth center," Harry chuckles, “no shortage of condoms there."

“Of course you do,” Louis says, charmed despite himself. “That kind of blows a hole in my alternative theory where you’re a condom aficionado.” He babbles to cover his nervousness as he rolls a condom over Harry’s cock and smoothes more lube over the impressive length. It’s not that he’s forgotten how big Harry is; but when said dick is imminently going inside his arse, it tends to put things in quite a different perspective.

Harry’s lashes flutter closed as Louis strokes him. “Ready?” he asks.

“Are you?” Louis shoots back.

Harry shakes his head minutely. “God, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for you.” His eyes are wide and awed as Louis guides the thick head of his cock towards his hole and sinks down slowly.

"Ooh —" It’s impossible for Louis to keep quiet as Harry fills him up, inch by massive inch. It’s slightly easier once he’s got the head in, though he has to stop halfway to catch his breath, heart beating like a racehorse. He closes his eyes and works his hips down in tiny circles. Even though he’s prepared and relaxed, he can’t help a whimper from escaping his mouth at how it burns. Harry is silent, searching his face for any sign of discomfort and hands stroking the back of Louis’s thighs.

"Just a bit more," he says, quietly pleading. Louis looks down between their bodies and groans when he sees that he’s only halfway there, the base of Harry’s cock emerging from his hole like some obscenely shiny _pole_ and Christ, Louis doesn’t think he can take him any further.

"I-I don’t —" Louis chokes on the words in his throat, gasping for breath like there is not enough room for air in his body because he’s so full. Harry surges up, folds his smaller body into a close embrace and thumbs away the wetness at the corners of his eyes.

"So amazing, Lou, so beautiful, babe, taking me so well. D’you know how much you turn me on — how I wanted to do this the very first time I saw you, how I thought about this every minute since, god, you’re better than I ever imagined …"

Louis’s skin prickles with bashful pride at the torrent of fervent praise and he pushes himself down that one last bit and gives a sobbing laugh when he bottoms out, seated fully in Harry’s lap, cock twitching in the tight space between their bodies.

God, he’s got all of Harry inside him, and it’s fucking glorious. It hurts, but the ache dulls in comparison to the way Louis’s nerves are fired up, sensitive and hyperaware of every little twitch of the huge cock splitting him open. Louis feels out of control of his body as he starts to move, fucking down in gentle rocking motions and chasing the guttural sounds that tumble from Harry’s mouth every time he takes him in all the way, closing his eyes to concentrate on the in-out, relentlessly perfect drag of that hot, stiff length inside him.

“Louis …”

He blinks his eyes open to see Harry looking right back at him. His hair fans out across the duvet in a dark halo and he’s so beautiful, almost ethereal, that Louis instinctively reaches out to touch his cheeks and lips, to assure himself that he’s real. Harry never stops touching him, stroking his trembling thighs, roving over his arse and touching the place where they meet. His hands are simultaneously tender and possessive and it’s so intimate, even more so than the actual fucking, that Louis thinks his heart will leap right out of his chest.

“Okay?” Harry asks hoarsely, like his vocal cords have been pulled too tight.

“Yeah,” Louis sighs blissfully, hips churning in tight circles. “Yeah, yeah, yeah …”

“You’re incredible,” Harry breathes, mouthing at Louis’s lips and cheeks like he can’t get enough of kissing him even though they can barely get air to breathe between them, “tell me how it feels, love, let me hear you, talk to me, babe.”

“Love the way — you fuck me — so good — so big — fuck — don’t stop,” Louis chants incoherently, his words punctuated by the slap of skin on skin. Harry doesn’t even have to try to aim for his prostate; he is nestled so deep inside Louis that the head of his cock pounds relentlessly against that sensitive spot every time he fucks in and it’s driving Louis mad with sensory overload, driving him towards the precipice way too fast and too soon.

He cries out when Harry takes his erection and strokes him lightly, barely touching him at all. Louis feels his body seize up, arse clench down, every fiber of his being pulled taut and snapping all at once, the center point of his focus narrowing to the thrust of Harry’s cock inside him and he comes. Harry’s hand must be magical, his dick must be fucking enchanted, because Louis hasn’t come this hard since he discovered what an orgasm was. He’s shaking, slumped forward on Harry’s chest and making embarrassing, gulping sounds, but Harry’s looking up at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“God, Lou, I need — can I come inside you, please?”

Louis groans, spurts out another dribble of semen from the swollen slit of his cock, and jerks his head in assent. Harry is close too, his thrusts messy and frantic, like he’s been holding back and waiting for Louis to come first. He props Louis up easily with hands gripping his slim waist and, not giving him a chance to regain his breath, slams right up into him with deep, aching thrusts that leave him reeling. Louis turns his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and claws at Harry’s back so hard his nails break skin.

Harry gives a garbled yell and a whole-body shudder, grinding up into Louis and holding himself there as he comes. There is a look of complete disinhibition on his face and Louis feels a sizzle of arousal so powerful that he would be hard again if it were physically possible. As it is, all the strength seeps out of his body and he falls on top of Harry, mindless of the slick semen between their bodies. Harry catches him and they melt together, languid and so high from orgasm they can only smile foolishly at one another.

“I won,” Harry says, smiling lopsidedly.

Louis scowls. “Way to ruin the post-coital atmosphere. Besides, you didn’t win – you cheated.”

“I was creative,” Harry corrects, “and used the tools at my disposal.”

“Okay, you won,” Louis concedes, too blissed out to argue. “What do you want as a reward?” He flicks at the pile of condoms scattered over the bedspread. “I s’pose we can make good use of your ill-gotten condom collection.”

“I like that idea, but aren’t you sore?” Harry traces the rim of Louis’s hole, feeling its swollen and stickiness from being fucked so well. Louis stirs feebly, still so sensitive that the feather-light touch is enough to make him shiver.

Louis bats his hand away. “More numb than sore right now. Totally worth it.”

Harry brushes a wisp of hair off his cheek. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not really sorry. You’re an incredible fuck.”

If he were a cat, Louis would be purring in self-satisfied contentment. He ducks his head under Harry’s chin and inhales that particular mix of Harry and sweat and sex. He doesn’t ever want to move.

“How were you able to hold back for so long? I don’t know about you, but I was going nutters, I wanted you so badly,” he admits.

“Years of practice,” Harry says shortly. When Louis frowns, he explains, “Most of the people I’ve dated are afraid I’d hurt them. Last bloke I was with, we were together three years. Our first time was a bit of a disaster. He got freaked out and never wanted to try it again.”

For the first time, Louis catches a glimpse of the insecurity that Harry hides so well behind those guileless green eyes. He’s somewhat amazed; he didn’t think Harry _had_ insecurities, what with being an attractive, massively well-endowed, Proust-reading Adonis who volunteers in his spare time.

"No wonder you were so insistent about the whole begging thing," he grumbles, "I thought you were just a sadist."

"I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it at least a little." Harry smiles lopsidedly. "You’re terribly cute when you get riled up."

“Call me cute one more time and you can forget about coming near my arse ever again,” Louis threatens non-threateningly.

They laugh at the same time, both knowing that there is no substance to Louis’s words.

“This ex of yours, he sounds like a right dickhead,” Louis says softly, not missing the way Harry’s eyes turn warm with fondness. He grabs Harry’s penis and traces a thick vein on the underside. “What a waste of a good cock.”

“Are you saying the only use for my dick is to fuck you?” Harry rolls on top of him and pinches his nipple playfully. There is a dangerous gleam in his eyes that Louis has come to know and love.

Louis giggles and doesn’t try very hard to wriggle away. A sliver of excitement runs through him when he feels Harry harden against him.

“Better put it to good use, then,” he says, smiling because they finally got what they both wanted.


End file.
